


as we walk along

by jaehyoons97



Series: Where the lines overlap [2]
Category: NCT (Band), Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: 2Yut, Alternate Universe - Baseball, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Fluff, However you call their pairing name, Johnny and Hansol are mentioned, M/M, Rimming, Self-indulge fic, Smut, Yut2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 19:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12637935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaehyoons97/pseuds/jaehyoons97
Summary: Yuta doesn’t get attached.He gets close to someone, yes, creates a bond of some sort with that someone, yes, but he never gets attached.





	as we walk along

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively; three times Yuta and Yuto almost kissed, and the one time they (finally) did. This is a sequel to "In this different time", so make sure you read that first to fit all the puzzles.

1

Yuta doesn’t get attached.

He gets close to someone, yes, creates a bond of some sort with that someone, yes, but he _never_ gets attached.

Yuta thinks being raised throughout his life as a designated guardian is what mostly contributes to his lack of personal attachments- although he is absolutely _not_ emotionally constipated like his fellow guardian.

Speaking of whom.

The same fellow is currently a few feet ahead in the garden by the pond; he is leaning into the heir of the Jo’s family business, very slowly so, while the small master closes his eyes.

Yuta stops in his tracks to observe and he brushes off the strange clench of his chest that frequents him more often these days because another thing that Yuta doesn’t do is get jealous.

Eventually Yuto changes his target and brushes his lips on Young Master Jino’s forehead instead, which leads to a light shove on his chest and an eruption of lecture from the other man. They spot Yuta in the middle of Young Master Jino’s wild gestures, and Yuta hesitantly resumes his approach, acting his best to not look like he saw the scene just now.

“Young Master Youngho intends to keep this a secret, but he has a surprise for you in your chamber,” he reports, bowing down. Yuta misses the moment when Young Master Jino lights up but catches the gleeful smile on his lips when he leaves.

“You could be penalized for treachery,” Yuto teases, to which Yuta just shrugs.

He could be penalized for breaching privacy too from watching Yuto and his master’s ministration, but is it considered as so when it doesn’t matter to him? He’s a professional guardian; any personal affairs of his own master and his affiliates, one of them being Young Master Jino, is nothing he should be bothered about.

Not that he was bothered.

Is.

Whatever.

“You seem close with your master,” Yuta says in the most un-petty way he could possibly pull off.

(Okay, he was bothered. Is still. Maybe.)

Yuto pauses, blinking suspiciously at him, but the acting works. “We are, somewhat.”

For some reason, it ticks Yuta off how Yuto just validated his assumption like that.

He takes a deep breath. He was _not_ jealous. He is simply concerned if his friend is losing his professionalism in his career. They are not supposed to be _close_ close to their respective masters. He is most definitely _not_ jealous. “How close?”

Yuto can hear the pettiness in his voice now but (as expected) he maintains his expressionless face.

(Yuta hates how he’s the only one feeling so utterly bothered.)

“He trusts me enough to spare me the news that Young Master Youngho and him are in a relationship,” Yuto says quietly.

And it only occurs to Yuta then: their young masters are together. Of fucking course. How can he not notice when it’s practically in his face? He’s by Youngho’s side 24/7 and is probably exposed to their relationship more than he thought. Why the fuck--

Oh right. He was being professional.

“Oh,” Yuta says deflatedly. “But you were going to kiss him just now?”

Shit. He did _not_ just blow his own cover.

And Yuto did not just blush?

Yuta grabs Yuto’s elbow and twists him around to face him. He didn’t expect the anguish in his tone when he asks, “Do you like him?”

It’s vague but Yuto swears he sees Yuto’s eyes widen before the young guardian shakes his head.

It’s not enough. Yuta needs more answer so he demands through his gaze.

“Our relationship is purely professional,” Yuto explains, to which Yuta almost cringe at how much he sounds like him. (They’ve been spending too much time together.) “But I’ve been having troubles.”

Yuta uses the silence to fit the puzzle pieces. Why Young Master Jino? Why not him Yuto turn to? “Does this concern your preferences?”

The silence continues.

“Or is it more of a heart issue?” Yuta tries again, and by the way the younger averts his gaze explains it all.

“Young Master Jino was simply trying to help me,” Yuto says.

“By what, showing what’s it like to kiss a man?” Yuta scoffs, the bitterness is there and he mentally punches himself. He holds his breath when Yuto darts his eyes back to him. Or rather, his lips.

The whine he thickly swallows back down is involuntary.

“I couldn’t do it,” Yuto says, eyes unblinking, still darting at his lips.

“Of course. Youngho would kick your ass all the way back to fucking Nagano if you did.”

Which is most likely not going to happen because if Young Master Jino allows it, it mostly means Youngho has given his consent.

What a weird relationship they have. (Not that he’s one to talk anyway.)

“Maybe you should kiss other guys.” ~~_Like me_ ~~.

Yuto opens his mouth slightly to speak, but decides not to and it frustrates Yuta because he can’t be the only one feeling the tension they’ve been having for a while now.

“Not just any guy?” Yuta whispers, feeling his heart sinking- it always does that when Yuto’s around, no matter how many times Yuta reminds himself to get a fucking grip because they have other, more prioritized, commitment they’re bound with but the younger guardian, despite looking emotionally constipated, wears his heart on his sleeves and to hell if (maybe) Yuta wants _this_ too, whatever ‘this’ is, when--

“Yuta-san.”

It’s only a brief calling, but the Japanese comes out so well from Yuto’s lips; his thick accent, the way his tongue wraps around his name, the authentic honorific that follows. It reminds Yuta of home- which is saying something because he never deems anything as such.

Calloused fingers slip into the palm of his hand, transferring warmth and reassurance as Yuto squeezes tenderly. The suffocation dissipates, along with the softening of Yuto’s eyes.

“You’re thinking too much,” the younger says, still in Japanese.

Oh, Yuta’s attached alright.

 

2

The City of Love definitely lives up to its name.

Yuta is back in his hotel room, moaning as long fingers stretch him open.

Damn right he’s being loved.

“ _Fuck_ , Yuto-” His breath hitches when Yuto licks at his entrance. His hips jerk.

It’s been awhile since his last time being the receiving end of an oral. He usually prefers to be on the other end, because he knows how amazing he is at giving, loves the endless praise and the outdrawn _yeah_ s he elicits from his partner, loves the fact how _he_ is the one reducing them to a mess of moans.

But the table’s turned now, with much convincing persuasion (for some reason Yuta couldn’t say no to those unswerving eyes as the other insisted on making _him_ feel good), and Yuta is more than pleased to comply.

There are two fingers in him now, thrusting and probing along with the slick of Yuto’s tongue and Yuta gasps as the other finds his prostate. His dick is far too hard for his liking because it’s still too soon to come but Yuto’s blowing at his rim, his other hand gliding along his side and finds his nipple-

“ _Don’t_ -”

The bastard just fucking smiles and retracts his hand, using it to open Yuta’s legs further instead and Yuta presses his arm to his eyes, avoiding Yuto’s burning gaze to maintain his dignity.

“Can we- _ah_ \- move on al-already,” Yuta manages to say in between gasps.

Yuto hums, kissing the ring of his hole. “You don’t want to come like this?”

“ _Ah_! Fuck, _no_ I don’t want to fucking come like this, _please_ -”

Yuto’s humming again, not at all fooled by the his plead, because Yuta’s pushing back on his tongue once its back in him to try and get the touches deeper, harder, making him sob louder.

His hand find its way to his cock but Yuto immediately swats him away, earning a frustrated groan.

“At least fucking touch me-”

But Yuto’s making up for it; adding a third finger and stretching him even wider, reaching him deeper and Yuta’s back is arching, chest heaving and head buried in the barricade of his arms. His walls are clenching against the touch, to which Yuto forces them open again with his stubborn fingers and _fuck_ \- the sound-

The filthy sounds Yuto makes just drives him even further to the edge; his legs are shaking violently now, hips losing control as he comes, _hard_ , onto his stomach with Yuto still lapping at his hole.

When Yuta returns from his state of, _well_ , mindfucked, Yuto’s already slicking up his entrance with lube, lining his cock to push in. “Take a deep breath,” he says as he finds Yuta’s hand to intertwine their fingers together.

And _fuck_ does he feel at ease when Yuto’s finally inside of him; he’s been drawn to the other man since their first stop in Rome, with his handsome face behind his camera and its lenses not-so-subtly directed at him. Yuta thought it was funny and endearing, how simple minded Yuto was when it comes to beauty, so he offered a broader view and he might be enjoying the look on Yuto’s face a little too much as admiration and marvel took over his professional facade.

And Yuta’s heart swells in his chest when Yuto hovers over him, that same look set forth on his face as he looks down at him.

“Well?” Yuta says, brushing it off- whatever ‘it’ is.

That gorgeous face breaks into a gorgeous smile before the hand under his knee hikes it up, drapes it over Yuto’s shoulder.

They start slow, steady, and Yuta’s not used to it; to the mindful thrusts, the hand behind his head to prevent bumping against the headboard, the closeness and the sharing of breaths. His intercourses are always fast, hard; pure fucking because that’s all they were- _supposed to be_ , at least.

While this- _this_ is out of his element. No one takes him like this. No one has ever been this sweet and gentle and accommodating, not since-

(Since Hansol.)

“No,” Yuta mumbles as he raises a hand between them when Yuto aims for a kiss. His hand is unmoving, lost, because he doesn’t particularly want Yuto to _not_ kiss him. Yuto isn’t Hansol. And this hotel room isn’t the same hotel room as Hansol and him stayed in a few years ago in Paris.

Yuto seems hesitant when he pulled away, bringing his warmth with him and it hurts- it’s fucking humiliating to be exposed under some stranger’s gaze, as if he knew him all along.

Yuta doesn’t want to lose that warmth, so he reaches out, Yuto’s hand naturally finding it and he brings it to his lips, kissing his knuckles and making Yuta’s heart soar.

“Is this okay?” he asks and _no_ , it’s not okay because Yuta wants more; wants to taste him on his tongue but he fucking can’t because Hansol-

“Yuto,” he says, reminding himself that this is Yuto.

Yuto Yuto Yuto. Not Hansol.

“I don’t- I-” his voice breaks, along with his heart and this isn’t working. This is supposed to be a healing journey but he fucked up and Hansol is consuming his mind again that he can’t seem to remember how to articulate his thoughts and his dick is growing soft and he’s panicking and-

“Hey,” Yuto calls, brushing Yuta’s hair back tenderly, “it’s alright. We don’t have to kiss. I’ve just been rimming you anyway.”

Yuta smiles at that, thankful. And he senses that the other understands and is respectful to whatever matter going in Yuta’s head.

But Yuto does kiss him. Everywhere- his stomach, his chest, his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, the back of his ears- but not his lips.

And they burn, the spot where Yuto kissed him, but Yuta’s not complaining because the heat finds its way low, lower to the core of his abdomen as Yuto keeps thrusting, harder this time and with more vigor and passion and Yuta thinks he’s calling out his name.

No, he _hears_ him calling out his name. Yuto’s name.

When he comes, untouched for the second time, Yuto doesn’t stop pounding into him. And it feels ecstatic; Yuta feels alive as Yuto starts groaning and gasping because this is it: Yuta’s back in his element.

Yuto comes with a muffled gasp onto the joint of Yuta’s neck and shoulder, hips not halting, only slowing down to ride out his orgasm. His hair smells like apple with a hint of smoke and alcohol from the club, but Yuta finds himself stroking the soft of his locks.

The thought of Hansol still stings, but as of now, with Yuto peppering kisses along his jaw and their fingers locked together, he is healed.

 

3

Taeyong’s hand is warm and soothing as he strokes his hair and Yuta hates that he can’t _not_ cry and let go of the fact that his team lost when it’s only one step away for him to stand on the grounds of Koshien. His entire team has been strong enough to not let it get to them- seeing their dream being crushed before their eyes is never not heartbreaking- and decided to end the day with a celebratory dinner at an okonomiyaki place; at least they’ve gone this far.

(Yuta asked to stay back because it’s his last year of high school and he wants to take his time breathing in the musty air of a baseball locker room for the last time before he drops the sport completely after he graduates.)

“You did good,” Taeyong mutters to Yuta’s hair. His jersey is wet with Yuta’s snot and tears which he should be disgusted about but he refuses to leave his catcher alone.

There’s a knock and Yuta sniffs loudly before he lifts his face from Taeyong’s collarbone and turns his head to the ajar door.

The freshman- Adachi Yuto- is standing in the doorway, shifting his eyes between Taeyong and Yuta. He bows his head after a few seconds as he hesitantly takes a step back.

“Wait!”

It’s Taeyong who stops him, already planting both feet on the ground to chase after the freshman in case he takes further steps back. But he stays, and Yuta can’t read his eyes when he looks at him. So Taeyong decides for both of them.

“I’ll wait at the gate,” he says to Yuta, nodding at Yuto before walking over to his sports bag, zipping it close and slinging the strap over his shoulder. He pats Yuto on the chest as he walks past him out the room.

The pitcher’s footsteps fade and the air is still as the rivals turn their attention to each other. Yuto still wearing the undying unreadable expression.

“What do you want, freshman?” Yuta asks, not unkindly. He tries to smile, because Yuto starts to frown at the mess that is him, but he’s too tired to. He doesn’t even bother to stop his face from twisting and finding its place in the palm of his hands as he cries again, quietly.

When he retracts his hand from his face, there’s a towel handed to him. “It’s this or my batting glove,” Yuto says when Yuta only stares down at it.

He chooses neither; he pushes himself to his feet, pinches the black longsleeve tee Yuto wears under his unbuttoned jersey and gives it a tug. It surprises him how he feels so familiar already around Yuto, almost as if it’s natural. And as Yuto takes a step closer, Yuta leans his forehead on the freshman’s chest, like he belongs there.

“Comfort me.”

The freshman complies; he resumes Taeyong’s work as he brings his hand to Yuta’s head, caressing his hair.

Yuta’s heart clenches painfully.

“I would trade lives with you if I could,” Yuto says, which sparks a laugh from Yuta.

“My life is _great_ , thank you very much,” Yuta nudges the younger with his fist, but Yuto’s holding his waist and he thinks he’s not the only one feeling the weird (but good) sense of familiarity.

His smile mirrors on Yuto’s face.

“Just, I must’ve kind of did something bad in my past life to experience this misfortune,” Yuta shrugs. “Like accidentally kicked a puppy or something.”

The second Yuto’s face turn serious, the clench in his heart returns.

“Or left my fiancee at the altar?” he jokes, attempting to lift the mood again. It doesn’t work.

There’s guilt rising in his chest, following the dejected look on Yuto’s face. It seems as though Yuto knows something Yuta’s supposed to know as well, only he doesn’t and it starts to eat at him as the minute goes. But Yuto reaches out, wipes off the trail of tears on Yuta’s cheeks and Yuta has the urge to kiss him right then and there.

“What should I do?” Yuto murmurs to himself, out of nowhere. Yuta thinks it’s endearing, how Yuto thinks he’s responsible for his grief.

Yuta is an opportunist by heart, and a simple one too. Hence he takes the toll to answer, “You can kiss me.”

It feels like a deja vu when he catches the way Yuto’s eyes widen for a split second.

“I’m kidding,” he adds nervously, taken aback because did he just say that? They’re strangers, god damn it.

But Yuto brings a finger under his chin to lift his face and Yuta _panics_ because Yuto is leaning in already and Yuta is yet to be ready to receive a kiss--

On the forehead.

“This brat,” Yuta protests, though amused. He pushes the freshman gently with his knuckles and warmth spread from the spot where Yuta kissed him to his entire face.

“I’ll kiss you when I win the tournament,” Yuto says, covering half of his face with his hand because he starts grinning.

Yuta rolls his eyes and flicks him on the forehead. “That’ll take a lifetime, you idiot.”

 

4 

When all of his memory from his past lives just fucking _slam_ into his head and flash before his eyes, Yuta thinks he’s going to die before he actually _sees_ them.

The Seo’s.

Paris.

The tournament.

Yuto is there, in every universe he’s been- they’ve been. _Their_ universe.

He’s always there, crossing paths with him, staying and taking matching strides with him before they’re led to different ends of the road.

Yuta doesn’t know why now, of all times, the universe decides to let him remember, but he’s not going to let the renewed chance slip out of his hand again so he thinks; now, _he_ should decide.

He fucking implodes when they finally kiss. All the longing, all the _what-if_ s and the little frustrations- they’re all worth it. And maybe it’s three lifetimes late, but Yuto always comes back and Yuta always gravitates towards him when he does, so it’s all right. Yuto’s here, kissing him back, and that’s all that matters. At least to Yuta.

Relief washes over him when Yuto smiles that gorgeous smile of his and says, “It was worth the wait.”

Yuta thinks, as cliche as it sounds, they’re meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I've done it. The ultimate cross-pairing of all cross-pairings. And a smut of them too. Please leave some kudos if you think this is decent. Also I'm desperate for comments ;A;
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/jaehyoons97) so you can inspire me with some prompts


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